All The Things We Should've Done (but we never did)
by JustKeepOnTheGrass
Summary: In which Jyn makes a call in regards to her marriage to Cassian. [Jyn/Cassian with a special appearance from Han Solo - Part 6 in the "Where's My Love?" series]


_**Author's Note:** Big one here, guys. This story is set after **I Could Fall In Love (in Corpus Christi)** and **Two People Were Married (the act was outrageous)**. It also takes place the same night as the first part of **Just Don't Take Too Long** by **guineapiggie**. I know my last few stories have been pretty happy-ish, but we are back to the angsty parts now. I can only apologise for the jump in timeline!_

 _Reviews are (almost) better than Jyn and Cassian being happy. So please leave one if you can. Cheers!_

* * *

 _So it's true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love._

 **E. A. Bucchianeri**

* * *

 _Oh, my darling_

 _Make it go_

 _Make it go away_

.

.

.

Even before she got married (and she never thought that she'd get married at all), Jyn has never wanted to be that girl. The girl who stays home alone in the evenings. The girl who sits at an empty dining table, looking around at an empty flat, wishing that he would _just come home._

She can't decide if his short, impersonal texts help or if they actually make things worse. _Don't wait up_ , one says. _Be home in an hour,_ another says. At least he is bothered enough to send them. At least he is putting aside his cases long enough to pick up his phone and punch down a few words to her. But sometimes she wonders how much his effort matter when his messages are never true?

He always sends _"be home in an hour"_ even though he never is. He always sends _"don't wait up"_ even though he knows she always will.

So she would sit and wait. She would look at the clock on her phone, stare at their wedding picture on the mantelpiece. She would clamp down on the tight feeling in her chest and the goddamn ache in her side that makes her want to weep and weep and weep.

She wishes that she could be strong enough not to care, but she does.

 _Welcome home._

She is never going to be that girl. Never. So she would leave the house late at night before he comes back with only her wallet, her house keys and her phone. (And if he calls later, she never picks up.) When she would come back drunk and stumbling in the early hours of the morning, she would always find him sitting there, awake and tired, with a look of disappointment in his eyes.

 _You shouldn't have waited for me,_ she always says. _Just come to bed, Jyn,_ he always replies.

His pain would give her a sick, horrible sense of satisfaction. And when his disappointment would cut too deep, she would tell herself that this is the way it is supposed to be.

Perhaps they are both getting what they deserve - she an empty house and he an unfeeling wife.

* * *

The clock reads half and an hour past midnight and she has a desperate, sad urge to call Bodhi. But she knows that tonight, of all nights, she can't do that to him. The things she will say, the things she will do… well, she can't put Bodhi through any of it when she has already asked him to pick up the pieces afterward.

She scrolls through her contacts for a while, biting her bottom lip to keep herself from crying. It doesn't take her long to find the number that she's looking for. She dials it, waits as it rings and rings until she thinks that no one is ever going to pick up. Then finally -

"Hello?"

"Hi," she says, and her voice comes out all distorted and shattered.

A long, long pause, before the familiar voice at the other end asks: "You okay, kid?"

She doesn't know how to answer that. She never does. But her silence is enough.

"I'm very sorry to bother you," she says quietly. "But could you please come over and see me?"

He hesitates. He of all people would understand how hard it was for her to say what she has just said. She can hear the static cracking through the line. Then -

"Okay, kid. Give me half an hour."

* * *

When the car pulls into her drive, it is already ten minutes past one in the morning. She shoves her phone and keys into the pocket of her jeans, grips her phone tightly in her hand. She stares at their fridge for a moment, seeing all their old post-its on there. ( _Leaving early for work, will be back late; Out with Bodhi, don't call; I made you dinner, it's in the fridge; I miss you, I can't wait to see you soon._ ) She knows that she ought to leave a note now as well. He expects her to leave a note. Or at least it is what they have promised each other they would do. But tonight…well, tonight is different. A note is not going to be enough.

She opens the passenger door and slides into the vehicle. Han Solo doesn't greet her with a smile, but with a smirk instead.

"Hey, kid. Rough night?"

 _Rough week and rough month_ , she wants to say. But the sight of Han there behind the wheel, familiar and uncaring yet caring, makes smiling not such a difficult feat to accomplish.

"Hey, Han. Thanks for coming."

"No problem," he says and puts the car into drive. "Where do you want to go? A pub? A bar?"

"No," she replies, shaking her head, the syllable heavy with regret. "Just drive."

She is not going to lie. The idea of drinking herself numb is incredibly appealing. But there are still many things that Cassian doesn't deserve and her stumbling home intoxicated to tell him what she has to tell him is one of them.

She stares out the window as Han goes at a slow, steady pace. She sees the few stars twinkling in the sky. The half-moon. The lights from a few convenient stores that are still open. The dark, closed windows of the houses along the road. She thinks of the people in them who are probably all asleep under their covers. It is strange, she thinks, that there are people out there in the world who are still capable of sleeping, of breathing, of not driving around in the death of night with a broken heart.

She knows that he will be home soon. She imagines him unlocking their door and stepping into the emptiness. She imagines him sighing as though he _can't be bothered anymore_ , pulling out a chair and sitting down to wait for her. She hopes that he will wait forever, but she also hopes that he doesn't.

"So what's this about, Jyn?" asks Han, his eyes on the road ahead. He has always had a way of asking her a serious question like it is not serious at all.

"Where's Leia?" Jyn asks instead. "Is she at home?"

"Leia's not home. She's out of town doing a story."

"Oh. Right. That explains it."

"Explain what?"

"You. Here."

Han looks over at her, his brows furrowing. "I'm not sure I like your tone, sweetheart."

Jyn rolls her eyes and looks out the window again. "Tough luck," she says. "You don't deserve her at all."

Han scoffs. "Tell me something I don't know."

She swallows the sentence that's right there on her tongue. She almost lets it slip out. But she can't say it aloud. Not yet. Instead, she rests her hand against the glass and looks up at the pale-coloured moon outside. Then, with a hard, sharp tone -

"Do you miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"You know what. Our lives before all this."

"By 'all this' you mean Leia and Cassian?" says Han, and she can tell from the bite in his voice that he is trying not to laugh. "Are you really asking me if I miss dodging the police and making deals in the back room of shady clubs? What are you trying to say, kid?"

"What I'm trying to say… is that things were easier back then."

Silence. And she wonders if he is thinking about what she is thinking about. Of a half-darkened room and too much alcohol and two pairs of chapped lips pressed against each other. Of eyes twinkling too much when they shouldn't be twinkling at all.

"It's the only thing I'm good at," Han says eventually. His voice is incredibly devoid of emotion. "Of course I miss it."

"But?"

"But Leia's worth it."

The sound that comes out of her mouth is half a laugh, half a sob. It makes him turn to look at her with surprise.

"Come on. I'm trying to be sentimental here," he says, lips curling into a sneer.

"You? Sentimental? Don't make me laugh."

"Well, I stand by what I said. She is worth it." His eyes crinkle at the corners as he attempts to smile. "I can't lie and say that we get on, but Andor is worth it too, isn't he?"

 _Tell me something I don't know._

Jyn looks away from her friend, out the window to the dark sky outside. The sentence has been buried within her for days now, but she still has to count down the seconds before she can voice it out loud.

"Han," she says finally, "I'm leaving him."

* * *

They stop at a park - the park where she and Cassian used to walk around together on Saturday mornings. The gates are closed, but Han and Jyn manage to climb over the fence and find a seat on one of the benches. The lamp posts are lit and she stares up at the one in front of them instead of at Han. She smokes a cigarette that he has produced from his pocket, not remembering the last time she has smoked at all.

"So what happened?" Han asks cautiously, looking straight ahead. He, too, is holding a lit cigarette in his hand but somehow, is refusing to smoke it.

"Nothing," she says.

"How can it be _nothing_?"

She shrugs, brings the cigarette to her lips and inhales. "The little things happened, I guess."

"The little things?"

"We would fight about things that don't even matter instead of fighting about the things that do. Then we would go to bed and wake up pretending like the fight never happened."

"Well, maybe the two of you are simply bad at communicating."

She shakes her head, her throat turning raw. "No, it is not that," she says.

She remembers how Cassian had pulled her to him in the middle of the night once and how she had pressed her lips against his even when she was still angry at him. She did it because she couldn't help herself. Because she couldn't bear to be apart from him even when he was silent.

"I moved my things out a few days ago and he hasn't even noticed. He is never there, Han. Not even when he is _there_. I never know what he is thinking. And he lies. Sometimes, I can't even tell if he really _is_ lying or if I just don't trust him to tell the truth anymore."

"Jyn - "

"And I haven't made it easy for him. I know that. I am too hard to handle. I'm selfish and I'm sad."

"Jyn, that's not your fault."

"Oh, yes, it is," she says through choked-back laughter. Her hand shakes a little as it brings up the cigarette. She inhales. Waits as the smoke clouds her vision and she tells herself that the smoke is the reason for the tears that are threatening to fall. "We have never said 'I love you' to each other. Not once. And we are _married._ " She smiles ironically, trying and failing to blink back the tears. "What kind of fucked up shit is that?"

 _I like you quite a bit._

 _I like you quite a bit too._

 _I do. I do. I do._

She stares down at the gold band around her finger. She has an urge to pull it off, to throw it into the ditch across the way, but she can do nothing except twist it around like she can't bring herself to part with it just yet.

Maybe eventually. One day.

Next to her, Han doesn't say anything. Jyn knows it is because he doesn't quite know which words to use. It is one of the reasons why she called him tonight and not Bodhi. Bodhi would have _a lot_ to say and she knows that she wouldn't be able to hear any of it, even if they might be true.

"Anyway," she says, dropping the cigarette to the ground, "if it were up to him, it would be like this until we both bite the dust. So I have to be the one who makes the first move."

She hears Han scoff beside her. "Kid, you don't _have_ to."

She does. Oh god, she does. But she can't bring herself to explain anymore. It is already too painful, too difficult, and her voice comes out more bitter than she has intended when she says: "Well, this is what Leia has to look forward to with you."

A beat. The sound of Han's shoe dragging across the gravel. Then -

"Jyn, I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

And it is Cassian's words from a life time ago that come to her.

 _There are beaches down in Mexico._

And she almost laughs at the absurdity of it all.

* * *

"Stop here," Jyn tells him, motioning to the side of the road.

Han stares at her, incredulous. "Why?"

"Because he's probably home by now and the last person he should see dropping me off is you."

Han's lips purse together, obviously a sign that he disagrees with her, but he brings the car to a stop nonetheless. They sit for a while in the silence, with him staring at the wheel and her looking at the rows of dark houses along the street. Finally, she says: "Han, I shouldn't have called you. I shouldn't have dragged you into this."

He dismisses her words with a wave of his hand. "Ah. Forget about it, kid. I understand. You were feeling sad. Nostalgic. And I'm…"

Whatever he thinks he is, he doesn't say. She smiles because she thinks she understands. She considers leaning over to hug him or kiss him on the cheek, but she knows that it has never been that way between them. So she opens the door, gets out and turns around to look at him one last time.

"Congratulations," she says quietly. "I know I didn't say anything back at the park, but I'm happy for you. I'm happy for you both."

"Come on, kid," he says, smiling. "It doesn't have to be so doom and gloom. We can hang out. It'll still be like old times."

She could lie and say that she agrees with him, but she doesn't. She raises a hand in farewell, he nods and she shuts the car door behind her. She stands and waits until he drives away, taking the last good bit of her past with him.

 _It's not bloody Han Solo, is it? Please tell me that it's not Han Solo._

The night air - cold and crisp - begins to chill her. She doesn't mind it that much, but she pulls her jacket closer to her body nonetheless as she begins walking down the street. She reflects on the many horrible situations she had walked into in the course of her not-so-young life - from incredibly awkward ones to life and death ones. But this…this one here…she thinks that this is the most difficult walk she has ever taken.

She is seeing ghosts everywhere tonight. She saw them back when she and Han were walking out of the park. The ghosts were her and Cassian - happier and more whole (if there is such a thing) - strolling on the grass with her head tucked in the crook of his arm. Now, the same ghosts are ahead of her. But this time, he is in his suit with his tie hanging loose, she is in her black dress with her heels in her hand, and they are laughing like they are the only two people in the world.

She thinks the ghosts are not supposed to appear just yet. It seems unfair that she has to see them now when she has not even left him yet.

 _The thing is, Jyn Erso. You're quite unforgettable._

She stops on the other side of the road from their house so he doesn't have to notice that she's back quite yet. She sees him through the window, sitting at the dining table with his head bowed and with a cup of coffee in his hands. For a second, she thinks he must be sleeping, but of course, he never sleeps much when she's not around.

She watches as he reaches out for his phone, dials a number, and her phone begins to vibrate in her pocket. She lets it ring. Then, eventually, she sees him throw his back down on the table.

She doesn't know how long she stands there watching him. Drinking him in. Letting her eyes roam across every inch of his body and his face from afar. There - the hand that she's held under the table at restaurants. There - those lips that she had kissed only this morning. And there - those eyes that have always looked at her in ways she has never dreamed of being looked at before.

Then there is the way he runs his hand through his hair. The way he taps his fingers on the surface of the table and fidgets. The way he sighs and breaks and waits. And all the ways she knows he loves her and all the ways she knows he doesn't…

After tonight, she will never see these things again. She will never see _him_ again.

(Unless he doesn't let her go. Unless he follows her. But she knows, because she knows him well enough despite everything, that he is never going to.)

The tears - the ones she's been trying to hold back since early this morning - begin to fall freely. At first, they roll silently down her cheeks and she stops trying to brush them away. Then all of a sudden, the pain hits her like a punch in the gut and she starts to weep and weep as though everything within her is being clawed and ripped apart. The hollowness drags an inhuman howl out of her and she has to lift a hand to her mouth to stifle the awful sound.

She ends up standing there doubled-over on the side of the road, wailing painfully like a dying animal, thinking that loss is not done with her after all.

 _Change is inevitable_ , she remembers telling him once.

She just didn't know it meant that it is inevitable for them. That despite all the planning and the _trying_ , life can change but people can't.

 _Jyn. Marry me._

It feels like years until all her tears run dry. Until she can't cry anymore even when it still hurts not to. Until she is not wrecked by sobs and can pick herself back up again.

 _Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale._

She sees him glance up at the clock, at their pictures on the wall, sees him bury his face in his hands. And she almost smiles because this is all the two of them have ever known - waiting for each other...

It is in this moment that the realisation hits her. That even though she has never told him so and would never tell him so, she could love him forever.

She could love him even if he loved someone else. She could love him when he is sad or happy or in-between. She could love him when he is hateful and stupid and cruel. She could love him when he is kind and clever and whole. She could love him when he is honest and she could love him when he lies. She could love him when he tells her everything and she could love him when he tells her nothing at all.

She could love him, love him, love him. She could. She could. She could.

 _But it still wouldn't be enough._

It is time, she decides. It has to be.

So she rubs a hand across her eyes, scrubbing away all the tears, the weakness, the longing, the hope.

 _Change is inevitable_ , she reminds herself, and when she finally steps onto the road, the world shifts beneath her feet.

* * *

 _I've looked at love from both sides now_

 _From give and take, and still somehow_

 _It's love's illusions I recall_

 _I really don't know love_

 _I really don't know love at all_

.

.

.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** I'm super happy that I could include Han in this. Han/Jyn is a dynamic I've explored before in **sometimes you don't get it right** and it seems fitting that he has a place in this AU. As to how far Jyn and Han have taken their...connection, please feel free to speculate and let me know! And if you're interested to know what happens when Jyn walks back into the house, go check out guineapiggie's **Just Don't Take Too Long**._

 _Thanks to the song "This Woman's Work" by Greg Laswell for the story title and for the lyrics at the beginning. Thanks also to Joni Mitchell for her heart wrenching rendition of "Both Sides Now" (lyrics at the end). Let me know if you spotted the reference to Joni's song "River" in the story!_

 _PLEASE do let me know what you thought! (And I am truly, genuinely sorry for all the angst.)_


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